


I'll Be Home For Christmas

by MarleyMortis



Series: Bucky Barnes Starts A Family [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Airport Reunion, Artificial Insemination, Bucky starts a family, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Existing Relationship, M/M, Pre-Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Spouse is in the military, Steve has health issues, everything is fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9037157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarleyMortis/pseuds/MarleyMortis
Summary: Sergeant Bucky Barnes goes home for Christmas leave.





	

**I'll Be Home for Christmas**

Sand and scrub grass had a way of getting everywhere. Under his eyelids, ground into the fiber of his socks, caked in the tread of his combat boots, in between his teeth, for God's sake. His whole unit was a stinking mess of blood-shot eyes, greasy hair, and unwashed bodies from their most recent excursion into the countryside of Afghanistan. Their rifles, though, were clean as a whistle despite the exhaustion of their bearers. Riley's—he was their pararescueman—wing pack still looked prettier than its wearer.

None of that seemed to matter the moment the base came into view of their humvee. The sight was greeted by cheers. Someone had gone to the trouble of hanging Christmas lights across the main gate during their absence, the spotting of which led to an impromptu concert when PV2 Parker, PFC Lang, and Lt Reneau burst into a chorus of Jingle Bells.

Their cheer brought a smile to Bucky's expression, humor that bled away as he noted Cpls Barton and Romanoff hunkered in the back of their transport looking anywhere but at the outburst of merriment. At least PV1 Wanda Maximoff had reason for not taking part; she was Jewish, but even she bounced along with the beat of the music.

Ribald laughter accompanied them off their vehicle despite Sgt Barnes admonishing them to stop behaving like a pack of hyenas. Said admonishment went completely unheeded. Parker said something Bucky didn't catch to which Wanda responded with a crude gesture that started the laughter up all over again. He could have reprimanded them. Maybe another sergeant would have, but even their redheaded sourpuss cracked a smile over the way Parker shrieked and hid behind Cpl Chai.

So instead, he dismissed them to their barracks for a shower while he made his reports to Master Sergeant Cadwallader. Tim “Dum Dum Dugan” Cadwallader was a bear of a man with a copper mustache and ruddy cheeks, and he ushered Bucky into his office with a cheery wave, sporting a red Santa hat in place of his traditional, and entirely non-regulation, bowler.

They talked briefly about the success of the mission—they'd been tasked with escorting some Afghan diplomats to a location several towns over—before the MSG handed over the squad's travel papers and wished them a safe trip home. His squad hadn't had leave in over nine months, so they'd been at the top of the list when it came to doling out Christmas R&R.

He was just stepping out the door when Cadwallader stopped him. “Romanoff and Barton don't have travel plans. Think they're plannin' on stayin' on base during leave. Do somethin' 'bout that would ya?”

“Sir, yes sir.” He touched his fingers to his brow and contemplated the asocial members of his team. Neither of them got letters from home. They didn't write letters to home either. No one had ever sent them care packages, and while they interacted just fine with the group, there seemed to be no one waiting for them to come home from war. As their commanding officer, it didn't just bother him; it bugged the shit out of him.

By the time he stepped into their barracks, his squad was already engaged in a raucous game of “who gets the StarkPhone first.” Billionaire and former weapons developer, Tony Stark, had generously endowed the US Army with updated hardware and software that allowed troops to have what he called “a more immersive way to keep in contact with family.” The contraption at the heart of StarkChat, a large glass tube containing an empty chair, took up an ass-load of room in their barracks, but his people turned into rabid wolverines after long missions over who made the first call.

“Sarge, can we get a ruling?” Riley Reneau asked. He was currently turning bright red, neck ensnared in the arms of Scott Lang, and completely at the mercy of his attacker. 

Bucky tucked his toiletry bag beneath an arm. First thing he asked was, “Romanoff or Barton need to make calls this time?” But both, already in opposite corners with noses buried in e-readers, shook their heads in the negative. Christmas lights from their makeshift tree gleamed in Romanoff's hair.

“Then it's Chai's turn to go first.”

“But Sarge--”

Scott's petulant whine reminded him of a Chihuahua.

Laughing, Bucky said, “Don't 'but Sarge' me. You had it first last time.”

T'challa, who had only recently become a citizen of the US, looked rather like the cat who got fat on the cream before padding toward the terminal. A snarling panther glared at them from the curves and ridges of his bare back, it's eyes a fierce, vibrant yellow. Moments later, the holographic tube filled with a 3D rendering of Chai's father back in Wakanda.

Bucky grinned and waved off Lang and Reneau. He grabbed a bag of packages all wrapped in blue and white paper, stopping at Maximoff's rack to place the Hanukkah gifts near her feet. “Happy Hanukkah, Wanda. Are you headed home this year?”

Her face lit up. Being their newest team member, she'd had some trouble fitting in with the rest of the crazies Bucky found himself in charge of. The group had since adopted her into their ranks.

“Sarge, to think of me is sweet.” She clutched the bag of gifts to her chest. “Yes, I go to Chicago where Pietro works. We will spend Hanukkah together. My twin-- it is hard for us to be apart.”

“I'm glad you'll get the chance to see him this year. Have a happy holiday.”

He left her to opening up her Hanukkah gifts and finally made it into the locker room. First thing he did after stepping under the hot spray was unclasp the chain around his neck to remove his wedding band from where he kept it safely with his dog tags when on mission. He slipped it onto the appropriate finger and leaned his head back against the tiles.

Thoughts of home made him ache, made him yearn for the spouse he'd left behind and the family who were eager for his Christmas leave. They shipped out tomorrow for three weeks Stateside, but he spared a thought for his fellow soldiers who wouldn't get to make it home that year. War didn't stop. Jobs still needed doing even during holidays, so not everyone would get the comfort of being with loved ones over the holiday season. 

He was intimately familiar with that sting, had spent the past two Christmases in Afghanistan when their platoon had received last minute orders fighting Taliban forces outside a vulnerable outpost. Nothing could assuage the punch to his gut upon telling his spouse he wouldn't make it home in time to celebrate together. Just another day in the life of active military personnel.

Towel draped around his shoulders, he joined the others back in their barracks. By that point, they'd sorted out their earlier differences over the StarkChat pecking order, and things were going smoothly again. Bucky smiled as he tucked his toiletries back in the foot of his locker. Wanda was showing Natasha some of the little gifts he'd gotten for her. Lang offered to let Reneau go ahead of him. Chai, his bag already packed for leave, was talking quietly with Barton.

Then, the deep rasp and Slavic-thick accent of Wanda piped up with, “My opinion? You'd both let Sarge go first. He always waits to make phone calls.”

“They don't have to. I can wait.”

Her suggestion was greeted with a chorus of cheers and cries to wish Mama Barnes happy holidays.

That was how Bucky found himself planted in front of the holographic tube with his squad fighting over the premium space behind him as he input his spouse's number. The call rang a few times before it connected. Moments later, Steve appeared siting in the empty chair inside the glass. His husband's eyes were bright and full of happiness, his broad shoulders stretching tight an ugly Christmas sweater. On his head, there perched a hat with reindeer antlers, ornaments dangling from them.

“Bee-bear!” Steve blew kisses before pushing stylish black glasses back up his nose. In the background, Bing Crosby crooned _'Christmas eve will find me where the love light gleams.'_

“I miss you like you wouldn't believe, doll-face,” he said. Fingers itched to trace those familiar broad shoulders, to run kisses across his husband's jaw and murmur sweet nothings in his ear.

“God, I'm so glad you called. I was getting worried. Everyone all right? Nobody's injured?”

The whole squad clamored to call out hellos. If Bucky was their Sarge, then Steve was the squad mom. He was pretty sure his husband wrote letters and sent care packages to the whole team by that point.

“We're all fine. Mission just ran longer than I thought. How's everyone there?”

“Great! Becca flew in from Paris last night, and Ma and Pops are driving her nuts trying to feed her up. You know how your ma is. If we're not eating a full Irish breakfast, there's gotta be something wrong with us, yeah?”

“Better not say that too loud or everyone's gonna wanna come home with me this year.”

His squad vocally agreed.

“It's the office's Christmas party today. If we're lucky, they won't try to send me home sloshed on Angie's killer eggnog. Don't worry, I been saving a gallon for when you get here. You think your flight's gonna be on time?”

“Actually, I might have to take a later flight outta here. I'll let you know when I'm gonna get in.”

At that point, Steve practically vibrated in his chair and released a squealing noise that heralded an imminent meltdown. Steve Barnes had zero poker face. Bucky always knew when the man was trying to keep something a secret. This time, his attempts proved unsuccessful.

“Pegs, Peggy, get over here. I'm gonna tell him.”

“Tell me what?”

“You said you were going to tell him at the airport, Love.”

“I can't wait any longer. If I don't tell him now, I'm gonna bust. 'Sides, he knows something's up.”

“Tell me what?” he demanded again, emotions lurching between the dread of possible bad news and the euphoria Steve radiated. Logically, he knew his husband wouldn't seem so happy if it was bad news, but half-way through his third tour, he'd gotten used to preparing himself for the worst.

Seconds later, Peggy Carter wedged herself into the holographic tube next to Steve, cramming herself into the chair as much as she could. It meant that half of her appeared to be three dimensional while the other half curved along the side of the glass, a flat, 2D representation.

“I'm here. Proceed.”

“We just got the news from Dr. Banner.” A beat of silence passed. “The insemination was successful.”

Bucky tried to process those words, but his brain seemed stuck in neutral.

“We're pregnant!”

“Pregnant?” As if he didn't know damn well what Steve was talking about. They'd been trying for more than a year, ever since Bucky decided this would be his last deployment.

“Yes! We're gonna have a baby, Bee-bear.”

Peggy nodded. “He's being insufferable, Bucky. The first thing he did when we received the news was purchase a maternity shirt that proudly proclaimed 'bun in the oven' and insisted I wear it out to brunch. Angie got quite the laugh, let me tell you.”

“Pregnant.” Then, in a quieter, more awe-struck sort of tone, he breathed, “We're gonna be fathers.”

Dizzy, he briefly dipped his head between his knees and took even breaths. So many insemination attempts had failed to take that he'd been slowly giving up hope of having a natural child with Steve. Not that there was anything wrong with adoption. It was something they would look into eventually, but Steve had had his heart set on Bucky fathering at least one of their children. His husband insisted they would have a whole brood, a notion their ma encouraged vociferously.

They'd tried with Steve's semen early on, but his husband's motility was practically nonexistent. Between that, Steve's health issues, and a low sperm count, they had finally given up on that avenue. That was when a mutual friend had referred them to Dr. Banner, and they'd chosen to freeze Bucky's sperm so Steve and Peggy, their surrogate and best friend, could keep trying while he was deployed.

“Baby, I can't wait to hold you,” Steve said.

Finally, some of the shock sloughed away, and Bucky suddenly needed a lampshade for his smile. “We're gonna have a baby. Did you hear that, guys? I'm gonna be a dad!”

A cacophony rose from the peanut gallery. Someone thumped him on the back. Lang, the only other father in the squad, told them what a wild ride they were in for. Barton called them crazy. Romanoff thought they were insane for procreating, and Maximoff insisted she would make the baby's first receiving blanket. One thing was certain: Baby Barnes would have a crazy extended family.

“Preggy--”

“Call me that again, and I introduce your lips to my fist.”

Everyone snickered.

“Peggy's eight and a half weeks. Dr. Banner says we're due June first.”

“As long as everything goes according to nature,” Peggy said.

No matter how much he didn't want to think about it, being pregnant didn't guarantee a live birth. Given how much trouble they'd had getting the insemination to take, Bucky was afraid something might go wrong, that they might miscarry. He wouldn't feel remotely comfortable until the baby's lungs and heart had fully developed. Still, he didn't want to dwell on that and would just quietly prepare himself in the event a tragedy happened.

He cleared his throat. “That means you won't have to be massively pregnant through the summer.”

A chime indicated they were nearing the end of their allotment. He wanted to reach out and trace his fingers over his husband's jaw but knew said fingers would come up empty. Missing Steve made him ache, made all the spaces Steve filled up feel barren.

“We're gonna be cut off soon, Bee-bear. I love you so much. Can't wait to see you at the airport.”

“Me too. Love you, Stevie. You too, Pegs. Take care of yourselves, you hear?”

There was only enough time left for the others to shout out their goodbyes before the tech disconnected. The bright image of Steve disappeared. Once again, the glass was empty.

***

Bucky wasn't entirely sure how it had happened, but he was pretty certain it had involved watching his squad ship off one by one to their various destinations and turning back to find Natasha and Clint hiding in their corners and looking like lost puppies. What sergeant could walk away and leave them there alone? He was the kind who couldn't, so he'd barked orders for them to pack a bag and managed to get them both last minute flights into JFK International, no small feat on December 23rd.

No less than three lay-overs and thirty-six hours later, they emerged into their terminal. Bucky craned his neck looking for anyone familiar. Steve was the first person he saw. Of course he was. His husband was only the tallest guy around. Beside Steve, Winnie and George Barnes waited impatiently, happy balloons clutched in fists and excitement barely contained behind a false mask of calm.

“Steve!” Nothing could stop the swell of relief, the rightness of breathing the same air as Steve Barnes.

That big blond head lifted, and the next thing he knew, they were in each other's arms. It probably looked like one of those sappy romances where the couple ran toward each other across a field of barley. Only in this case, the field wasn't so much a field as it was man-made flooring, and the barley wasn't so much barely as it was the Christmas rush of reuniting families.

The crowd around them faded. Various noises inside the building turned to murmurs. Phantom scents of the desert gave way to the familiar fragrance of Steve's favorite cologne. He was vaguely aware of his husband lifting him from his feet and turning them in a circle, quite an accomplishment given Bucky's size. They pulled apart to gaze into each other's eyes only to move in for a kiss. It wasn't a little kiss either.

Vaguely, he was aware of his mother catcalling them and his father answering questions from what he thought was a news crew. Only then did he realize they were being filmed, probably for one of those feel-good stories on local news showcasing returning soldiers reuniting with their families. Bucky didn't care. He only cared about Steve.

“God, look at you, Bee-bear. You get more handsome every time you come home.”

Bucky chuckled and went in for another kiss, this one only slightly briefer. “Feel like I'm bringing home half the desert in my shoes, though.”

His mother's patience ended abruptly, and she shoved Steve until his husband turned loose of him. Winnie was all Irish, from her temper right down to her overwhelming fussiness. She squeezed him and tsked behind her teeth, demanding to know why they weren't feeding her boy better in the Army.

After a few moments, he disentangled himself to hug his father. George was much less animated in his welcome but no less meaningful. “It's good to see you're taking care of yourself. Now if we can just convince Steve to do the same.”

Bucky shot his husband a razor-sharp glare.

Steve threw his hands up in surrender.

“Missed his last two appointments with his transplant specialist, and we've had to nag him into remembering his hormone injections.”

His glare tightened.

“I was excited about the pregnancy, okay? Stop looking at me like that. Please. I promise I'll go to my next appointment. Scout's honor.”

“The Boy Scouts organization sucks, Stevie.”

“I swear on the Precious?”

The snort and chuckle that came from Clint accounted for one of a very limited number of times Bucky had ever heard the man genuinely amused. He turned and eyed up Duckling One. “This is Nat Romanoff and Clint Barton. They're spending Christmas with us.”

That brief introduction was all it took to get his ma's motor revving. She wrapped an arm around each of them and had no qualms in besmirching the US Army for taking such poor care of their dietary necessities. No soldier could march around the desert on the cardboard content of an MRE.

His two ducklings looked at him with wide eyes full of panic as Ma Barnes ushered them outside JFK International and into a waiting taxi for the trip home.

Bucky, laughing at them, laced his fingers with Steve's and followed them out into the frigid New York landscape. Outdoor speakers emitted the smoky tenor of Elvis singing _'Here comes Santa Clause. Here comes Santa Clause, right down Santa Clause lane.'_

**Author's Note:**

> At some point, I'll turn this into a series and write more one-shots in this universe.
> 
> I hope everyone has a happy holidays!


End file.
